


pumpkins scream in the dead of the night

by soulofme



Category: Easy Love - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: "You're not a monster."
Relationships: Nora Hwang/Demian Price
Kudos: 1





	pumpkins scream in the dead of the night

The punch reminded him of all those chemistry labs he’d done in school, where a bit of compound A and a dash of compound B led to liquid frothing over the lip of the beaker, splashing onto the black lab table. It felt like exploding, like the world had narrowed into one tiny bit before fragmenting into a billion and one pieces.

But, more than anything, it _hurt_. He reached up instantly to press cautious fingers into the tender underside of his jaw. Della was still standing in front of him, shoulders heaving, breaths ragged and harsh in the dead of the night.

“Let’s go,” she hissed, and when she grabbed onto his arm, he let himself be dragged away.

With each step, Demian’s knees trembled, threatening to give out beneath him. He kept his free hand cupped beneath his chin, holding his throbbing jaw as if he could somehow draw the pain away from the area.

Della pushed him down behind a bale of hay, clamping a hand over his mouth when he made a soft, questioning noise. Her eyes were dark as she peered over the top, one hand grasping onto the straw to keep her balance.

It was silent before them. Nothing seemed out of place, other than the heat the Demian swore he felt was climbing up his spine. It was dark. He knew that because the moon was high above them and everything was bathed in silvery-white light.

But it didn’t _seem_ dark. He could see just fine, could make out the shapes of cars and the haunted house looming over them. Somewhere, in the distance, he heard an animal squeal. But the sound cut out as soon as it arrived, and they were left in that deafening quiet once more.

He moved when Della did, keeping his steps slow and measured. The fair had been cleared out. Pumpkins laid on their sides, some cracked open, spilling their guts onto the dirt. The tractors were empty, the bales of hay sunken in, depressed in their centers. Halloween-themed music played over the loudspeakers, a continuous beat that no one would hear except for them.

There was something sticky on his shirt, and it became more apparent the more Della moved him. She shoved him forward before he could glance down and investigate it, and suddenly they were inside a building. She flicked a light on, and he hissed as the influx of light.

It was the first time he looked directly at her. She looked fine, mostly, except there was something dark and crusted at the corner of her lips. She narrowed her eyes and snapped her fingers in front of him.

“I’m not a dog.”

His voice sounded foreign even to his own ears. Della relaxed minutely.

“He speaks,” she muttered, feigning awe. “Come on.”

She didn’t grab him again as she turned and walked further down the corridor. Demian hastened to fall into step beside her.

There was another door, and Della threw it open as if it weighed nothing at all. His eyes fixed onto Nora, who sat with her computer open on her lap, eyes drooping as she clicked along lazily. She sat upright when she caught sight of them, headphones slipping down to hang around her neck. They were back in the hideout, the place they'd called home since...well, always. Demian felt tension leave his shoulders that he wasn't even aware had been there.

“You’re back early,” Nora remarked carefully, glancing between Demian and Della.

Della sighed and dropped herself down into an empty chair.

“He did it again,” she complained plaintively, shooting Demian a mournful look. “_Again_, Nora.”

Nora’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she forced a smile onto her face when she turned to him.

“C’mon,” she said, tone betraying nothing, and held her hand out to him.

He gripped onto it tightly. There was something familiar and safe about her. Not like Della, who seemed to do nothing but make his hair rise like it was her job. He managed a sneer as he passed and got nothing but a smirk for his efforts.

Nora led him through a few winding, interconnected hallways before he recognized they were in the bathroom. It was warm, the kind of warm that made you want to close your eyes and take a nice, long nap.

“You should wash up,” Nora said, standing a little bit away. “You’re covered in blood.”

Blood. The source of the stickiness, then. He glanced down at his shirt and found that there was a rather large spot on his abdomen. He worried for a moment that it was his own, but his stomach was unharmed.

The memories came flooding back. The fair, the screams, the _smell_. Something like pomegranates, sweet and tangy, the kind of flavor that made his toes curl. Once, every year, he was given a chance. An apology for forcing them out into the outskirts of town, he guessed.

Once, every year, the mayor would shield his eyes and let them do what they pleased. They, of course, being those like Demian, or Della, or even Nora.

The vampires. The monsters. The ones people hid their kids from, of whom horrible stories of brutality were told. For humans, it was easier to pretend that vampires were just another overplayed Halloween costume.

For Demian, it wasn’t that easy.

He jumped when he felt fingertips against his skin. Nora gently coaxed him out of his shirt, turning to run the bath while he rid himself of the rest of his clothes. The water was warm, maybe too much, but Demian slipped inside the tub and shut his eyes.

Nora’s hand raked through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead.

“It was a boy.”

“A boy?” Nora echoed. A stream of water flowed over the bridge of his nose as she began to wash his hair.

“He was…young.”

“A child?”

“Yes.”

Silence pressed on between them. Demian opened his eyes and watched as Nora folded her arms over the edge of the tub, resting her chin on them. Her eyes were soft, curious as she looked at him, silently urging him to continue.

Demian sunk down further into the water.

“He didn’t scream, or cry. He was quiet.”

“Was he scared?”

“No,” Demian murmured. “Not this one.”

Nora’s lips twisted upwards.

“He reminded me of your brother.”

The words slipped out before he could stop himself. Nora froze, mouth dropped open in shock. She went rigid before him, relaxing slightly when Demian placed a wet hand on her arm. He watched as the fabric of her shirt got soaked with water, turning the grey fabric almost black.

"He was defiant, like he was ready to die. He didn't fight back, but I could see it in his eyes. He was holding himself back."

"A fighter then," Nora said quietly. "I guess that kinda does sound like Nicky."

“If he lived,” Demian began, choosing his words carefully, “do you think he would’ve joined us?”

“No,” Nora said, with a derisive snort. “Nicky hated messes.”

There was a shadow of movement, and when they turned it was to see Sammy standing awkwardly at in the doorway. His lips quirked downwards with distaste. He didn’t need to speak for it to be obvious what he was thinking. Demian ducked his head away, staring down at the murky water to avoid the eyes boring holes into the side of his skull.

“Ace and Val returned from the council meeting,” he said, voice stone cold. “Camilla says the humans aren’t happy about the child’s death.”

“Do they plan to retaliate?”

“No,” Sammy answered, rolling his eyes. “Just…keep your boy toy in line next time, alright?”

He turned and left without another word. Nora swallowed, hard enough that Demian could hear it. He watched as she squeezed shampoo into the palm of her hand, lathering it between her fingers before she worked it through his hair.

“He blames me.”

“You didn’t kill Nicky,” Nora says, sounding tired.

“I didn’t help him live, either.”

Nora flinched, fingers still tangled in Demian’s hair. She shook her head and washed the suds away.

“It doesn’t always take.”

“I know, but he and Sammy…they had something, right?”

“Once,” Nora admitted. “but Nicky was stubborn. Sammy was worse. It wouldn’t have worked.”

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Nora looked shocked for a moment, but then she sighed softly and rested their foreheads together, one hand gently tracing the curve of his jaw. The skin was healed now, the bruise fading, and it hardly hurt when Nora pressed a fingertip into the center of it.

“Because then I’d have nothing.”

It was a confession, whispered against his lips. He knew that everyone could hear them (one perk of supersonic hearing, he supposed: the ability to eavesdrop effortlessly). But for a moment, Demian let himself believe that this was a conversation for just the two of them to enjoy.

She kissed him then, sweet and soft, and it was so blatantly the opposite of everything they were. The humans had a right to be afraid of them. They could destroy them and everything they loved. It was in everyone’s best interest that they were locked away, hidden so well that society could pretend they never existed at all.

But deep down at their core, they were humans too. Beyond the folklore and myths and legends, they had lives. Loved ones. Things they cherished. Memories that hurt to leave behind. For most of them, this life hadn’t been a choice. Their only other option was death.

It was why Demian allowed himself something like this, something so beautiful and wonderful as Nora. Perhaps he would’ve called it love, in another life. Right now, he didn’t think he deserved to say the word. But he felt something, something that made him feel like this wasn’t all so bad, and that was enough, for the most part.

Nora pulled away and Demian found himself mourning her warmth. She lifted one of his hands and kissed his knuckles, holding them against her mouth for a moment before she spoke.

“You’re not a monster,” she said.

“I know,” he lied, and Nora’s sad smile told him she didn’t even believe herself.


End file.
